Observe the World
by Tyger-Prince
Summary: Sherlock BBC in High School verse. John Watson just transferred to a new school, and has the unfortunate luck of rooming with the school's number one freak, Sherlock Holmes. Can John survive this new high school and his roommate?
1. Chapter 1: Meeting Sherlock Holmes

I was either going to go on a murderous rampage or kill myself before the day was over.

I sat across from the principal as he explained the situation with me. How since I came smack dab in the middle of the year, ispecial/i arrangements had to be made. I had to share a dorm and a locker and practically everything else that came with it. Ad quite frankly, I was a bit agitated by it.

"Fortunately, Mr. Watson, we have a room available for you. Your room mate should be in the forensics lab, if you would like to go meet him?" the principal raised his eyebrows.

I gave a shrug and a nod, did it matter? I was going to meet him anyway. "Sure."

And in a flash I'm being led down the halls into another building that held the science department. It wasn't that far from the main building, but it was sure the biggest. Easy enough to get lost in.

"It's the last room on the fourth floor. You're welcomed to take the elevator," he said, nodded to my obvious limp.

I just shrugged again and walked over to the elevator, my crane clanking. I clicked the buttons and leaned against the wall. I sighed as I waited to ascend to the fourth floor. Not that I hated this school, just the cause for my immediate transfer was unfair. The elevator stopped on my floor and I wobbled out, searching for the room. Finally I reached the end of the hallway, with big, black, blocky letters reading "FORENSICS LAB." I pushed the door open to find another boy and a girl.

"Hello?" I call out.

The girl instantly turned her head and stares at me. The boy on the other hand had his eyes in a microscope. The girl smiled and waved. "Hello, I'm Molly."

"John, John Watson," I informed them. "I was told my roommate would be in here?" I eyed the boy.

"Sherlock! You finally get a roommate!" Molly grinned.

"Lovely," he said in a plain, monotone tone. He picked up his head from the microscope and looked at me. "Hrm, private school? More specifically Catholic, telling by your stance. Played sports. Football, the American kind. You sustained an injury from it, but not while playing it. You hate that you transferred here and you have below average intellect," he said before returning to his microscope.

I was about to pop him in the mouth before he added more. "But, you have one thing most people don't."

"Oh?" I asked, obviously annoyed.

"Yes," he looked up a final time, grabbing his coat and shrugging it on. "Common sense," he smirked. "221B, Baker Building, see you tonight?" he said as he ventured out.

And that was the first time I met Sherlock Holmes.

hr/hr

It was the end of the day and I just had bought all my books and was given my uniforms. I walked into my housing building, Baker Building, and wobbled around for the elevator. I pressed the button for the second floor and found 221b. I put my key in the lock and walked into my new dorm.

The dorm was an organized clutter. Books littered every shelf. There were various knickknacks everywhere. And was that – a skull! – oh wait it was fake. My boxes were already pushed to an open doorway – my room.

Sherlock was sitting in an armchair, wrapped in a blanket, staring intently at his laptop. "John," he acknowledged my existence.

"Sherlock," I nodded. "Hey let me ask you a question."

"Ask me two," he replied. I couldn't telling if he was being a smartass or just serious.

"No one is fine. Just – How did you know all that?"

"Know all what?"

"When I first walked in the lab, and you knew everything. Did my parents talk to you? Harry? Who?" I asked.

"I don't know your parents. And you don't talk to Harry – "

"How do you know this!" I stressed.

Sherlock took his eyes off his laptop. "How you said the name. It was in a tone that led me to believe you don't talk to them. Probably haven't in a while. A falling out probably."

"So how do you know all this?"

"Deduction," he answered. "Simple."

"No, not simple. How did you do that? I mean, all you did is look at me for like, two seconds. How?"

Sherlock sighed, sounding a bit bothered. "I say what I see."

"How did you see all that?"

"While everyone else watches the world, I observe it." It was as plain as that.

"You observe it?"

"The way you hold yourself, the stance, the clean cut. It practically screams 'Catholic School.' You have a big build, so you must have played sports. Your upper body is bigger than your lower body, so it was definitely a sport that required you to throw something. Not basketball because you're too stocky for it. You're limping, obvious you have an injury from that sport. But it's the only one you have, so you must be careful when you played. Since you transferred, you probably got into a fight after a game, which led to your transfer. Suspended?"

"Asked to consider switching schools," I corrected.

"Same thing."

"And my 'below average' intelligence?"

"The way you are nonchalant about your suspension, your face reeks of boredom. Like you rather be anywhere but here. But you'll stay. And you look like a person who has a lot of 'street smarts'," he used air quotes for that. "It shows you have common sense. Tea?" he offered.

"What? Oh, sure," I shrugged.

"Well you'll have to make it," he pointed out.

I rolled my eyes and went to go boil some water. "So that's just it? You 'observe'? That fast?"

"It's a gift," he shrugged. "Most people try to ignore me when they can. Except Molly, poor thing."

"Poor thing?"

"A couple of minutes with her around me, it won't need someone of my skills to see she's obsessed with me."

I snorted out a chuckled as I put the kettle on the stove. "Not interested?" I mused.

"Are you?" he shot my question back at me.

I shrugged. "I don't know, I don't even know her."

Sherlock just hummed and nodded. "Good answer." And I'd be damned if I saw a hint of a smile.


	2. Chapter 2: First Day

I blinked awake, reaching for my cane. I hated this. I felt like an old man with this cane. I steadied myself up to go pick out some clothes. When I finished dressing I stepped out of my room and saw Sherlock curled up in the armchair, sipping tea.

"Sherlock," I nodded a hello.

"Morning John. Sleep well?" he asked.

"Just pleasant."

"Good. And you're dressed, that's good. Because Mrs. Hudson is coming up to meet you."

"Who?"

"Our dorm's landlad – "

"Your dorm's dean. Hello Mr. Watson," an old woman walked in. He had a short blond bob and looked rather old.

"Hi Mrs. Hudson. Um, how did you get in?" I asked.

"Oh I have a key to all the dorms. Safety reasons. And if you ever get locked out. But after eleven at night, you'll have to wait til morning."

"Understood," I chuckled.

"Good, I'm glad one of you does," she chuckled. "Now get going you two, breakfast is ready and you have classes in an hour." She turned and walked out of the dorm.

"Breakfast John?" Sherlock got up and grabbed his coat. I nodded and limped after him.

"Where's your first class?" He asked as we entered the cafeteria.

"Um, it's English Literature. It says Doyle Hall," I read it off my schedule.

"Oh that's not far. I'll take you after breakfast," Sherlock dismissed it with a hand. Soon we had entered the dining hall. Everyone's eyes turned to us as we walked in. I raised my eyebrows at all of them. Finally, I grabbed my breakfast and watched as Sherlock joined me at a table without a tray.

"You're not going to eat?" I asked.

"What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

"Oh I have a few days then."

"Til what?"

"I have to eat."

I stared at him. "Sherlock you need to eat."

"I do when it's necessary," he shrugged.

"It's _always_ necessary!" I gave him a look.

"No it's not. One can go a while without eating," he stated matter of factly.

"You have to be kidding me," I rolled my eyes.

"No I'm completely serious," he simply said.

I sighed heavily, giving up. "You are an odd one."

Sherlock just nodded. "Finish eating."

Sherlock had walked me to my first class. I told him not to worry about it but he insisted. He stopped by the door and wished me luck.

"Thank you," I said as I entered the classroom. I found a seat in the back, limping to join another boy on at a table.

"So you're Holmes' new roommate, huh?" he asked the moment I sat down.

I gave him a look. "Hello to you too. And yes. You are …?"

"Greg Lestrade. But Lestrade is fine. Everyone calls me by my last name," he stuck out his hand.

"John Watson. John is fine," I said. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Same. And I applaud your bravery for rooming with Holmes."

"I didn't really have a choice."

"Oh, poor you." The boy in the next table snickered.

"Anderson…" Lestrade groaned.

"What? It's true. Man's a psychopath and anyone who has to be sleeping in the same dorm as him deserves my pity," Anderson scoffed.

"Ignore him, he and Holmes have a thing. He hates him," Lestrade explained. "Though to be fair, not many people do like Holmes."

"How come?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"He's an obnoxious little freak," the girl next to Anderson snapped.

"And this is Sally Donovan," Lestrade gestured.

"Hello," I waved. "John."

"Lovely. Look," Sally said, staring at me. "Switch rooms. Now. I'm sure you can find someone – "

"That's enough Donovan. Jeez the kid isn't even here to defend himself."

"Oh? So he can call me a cheating whore?" Anderson made a face. "I think not."

"Well it is – " Lestrade started.

"Awe not you too, mate!" Anderson made a face.

I shook my head and tried to pay attention to the class. But soon Lestrade started talking to me again.

"What now?" I groaned.

"You haven't met everyone."

I sighed. "Go on."

"Well you met Anderson and Donovan. Over there," he pointed to a girl in the front with black wavy hair done in a bun. And by God she was hot. "Irene Alder. Almost as much as a psychopath as Holmes. But …"

"But she's hot?"

"Exactly. There," he pointed to Molly. "Is – "

"Molly. I know, I met her in the lab."

"She's one of the few people who tolerate Sherlock – "

"I heard she likes him."

"Who told you that? Sherlock? I wouldn't say that much." He went on to point out certain kids in the class.

I just nodded along. "So you and Sherlock. Are you guys friends?"

"I respect him," he shrugged. "Sherlock doesn't have friends. He has no real feelings towards other people."

"You said him and Anderson hated each other."

"I said Anderson hated him," he corrected. "To Sherlock, you're either someone he knows or someone he doesn't."

I just offered another nod and turned my head back to the front of the classroom. But in my mind, I thought about Lestrade's words.

* * *

><p>When my class was over, Sherlock was waiting by the door.<p>

"I told you I'd show you to your classes," he said.

And that's how it was all day. Sherlock would bring me to my class, and be there when I left.

During my last class, I had to take a trip to the bathrooms. On my way back, I was stopped by a man.

"Hey, are you John Watson?" he asked.

"Why?" I stared at him.

"You're Sherlock's new roommate."

I rolled my eyes. For such an unpopular kid, Sherlock's name was sure on everyone's tongue. "So?"

"So, I have a proposal for you. Willing to make some cash?"

"…How much?"

"Oh, let's say four hundred dollars."

I raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Four hundred dollars, and all you have to do is report what Sherlock does. To me."

"You want me to spy? I don't even know who you are."

"Mycroft, and I'm a teacher's assistant. Trust me, it's for the best."

I gave him a look. "One, all because you tell me your name does not mean I know you. Two, I'm not spying on my roommate."

"I'll pay you four – "

"I heard you. Still no."

Mycroft frowned. "But four hun – fine. Your lost. I don't know why you choose to protect him."

"I'm not a snitch, for anyone," I rolled my eyes as I turned to walk back to my class. I heard Mycroft scoff and walk down the opposite way.

* * *

><p>Me and Sherlock returned to our dorms after we finished dinner. It was a long day and I had to sit down. Taking the most comfortable spot on the sofa, I plopped down.<p>

"It's psychosomatic."

"Excuse me?" I asked, looking at Sherlock.

"Your limp. It's psychosomatic."

"Oh bloody hell how did you figure that out?"

"You seem to forget about it. Sometimes you stop limping. Psychosomatic. But – "

"But?"

Sherlock looked me over. "You didn't get hurt in a game. Tell me, how?"

I was taken aback by the request. I sighed and shifted in my seat. "We were playing our rival school. It was homecoming and we won. The other team was pissed, we there was a fight. I separated my teammate from a rival team. Later that night, walking home…" I paused.

"Yes?"

"Later that night, two players on the other team stopped me. And," I chewed my bottom lip. "And they shot me."

"So when you said 'asked to consider changing school' ….?"

"It as for my safety."

Sherlock was silent for a bit, his eyes locked on me. "May I see the scar?"

"My scar? If you want…" I shrugged.

"On your left shoulder." He piped.

I groaned. "Okay and that?"

"And what?"

"How did you know it was on my left shoulder?" I stared at him

"Well it isn't on your leg, because then the limp wouldn't be psychosomatic. But it was still traumatic enough to cause the limp. So somewhere just as important. I look at your arms. You can'thave those to be limp or they're useless, but your left arm is stiff at the shoulder. So, I presume it on your left shoulder blade, from the back?"

I just stared, my mouth gaping. "I … How … That … You're brilliant."

It was Sherlock's turn to be surprised. "Excuse me?"

"A little blunt and obnoxious, yes, but absolutely brilliant! No wonder you think I'm stupid."

"Don't feel bad everyone is stupid. And my deductions, they never have been called brilliant. Most people say different."

"What do they say?"

"Piss off," he smirked.

* * *

><p><em><strong>TUMBLR<strong>__**_DASHBOARD_WATS-UP-SON_MESSAGES(0)**_

_TEXT|PICTURE|QUOTE|LINK|CHAT|AUDIO|VIDEO_

**Wats-up-son January 30th, 2011.**

_I was told that this blog might help me. Fine. So I'm here and I just finished my first day f classes. I learned some interesting things about Sherlock. Oh Sherlock. Mr. Holmes. My roommate who may or may not be a hermit. No, scratch that. Mr. Holmes. My roommate who is a hermit, along with some other things. But I'm not going to lie, he's pretty smart. Funny thing is, he seems to be the most hated person in school. Lestrade (My lab partner) explained it all to me. He and Anderson (another boy) talked rather poorly of him, as if he was someone to avoid. But you know what? Sherlock was the only person yesterday that made sure I got around okay, and the only person to make sure I wasn't alone whilst we ate. SO maybe they're the ones we need to avoid._

_-J.W._


	3. Chapter 3: Drugs

I awoke the next morning and realized something. Sherlock didn't accuse my psychosomatic limp as my excuse for attention. Everyone always assumes that. I can't explain why I do it, although, Sherlock made a good guess. But I was never much for attention.

I repeat my morning routine and leave my room to find Sherlock yet again in his armchair.

"Good morning Sherlock."

"G'Morning John. So I see you met Lestrade and Anderson."

"Huh? Oh man how did you learn that?"

"Your blog."

"You found my blog? H-How? Did my hands give away my u-r-l? My face told you my password? What?"

"No, you left your laptop opened."

I gave him a look then just laughed. "Of course. Are you going to eat today?"

"I have two more days."

"You're impossible."

"My eating habits are the least of my oddities," Sherlock pointed out.

"I guess that's true. Are you coming anyway?"

"Sure, I'll come."

* * *

><p>"People are going to talk."<p>

I raise my head from the sheet we were supposed to be doing and look at Donovan. "Excuse me?" A phrase that in the past few days have been way overused.

"About you and Sherlock. How you walk to classes together. And how you two keep eating together."

"He's my roommate."

"And more reason to talk."

"About?" I was starting to get annoyed about were this was going.

"You two. _Together_. We all know what it implies."

"I don't." I gave her a slight glare.

She just gave me a smug smile and turned around. I groaned and rolled my eyes. I didn't care what others believed. I never really have, even at my old school.

* * *

><p>Apparently everyone agreed with Donovan. Why would someone want to room with Sherlock? Besides the obvious reason that I had no choice but to. I chose to ignore it, but I wondered; how was Sherlock taking it? Not that he seemed like one to be phased by such things. I joined Sherlock at our table for dinner.<p>

"Do you hear all this?" I asked.

"Hrm?"

"People, talking about us all because we live together."

"Oh? I haven't realized."

"Oh well they are. I don't really care for it, I just assumed you did."

"What makes you think I ever would?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing, just making sure it didn't bother you."

"It's fine, I'm not bother."

"Sure?"

"Positive."

I gave a shrug and continued my dinner. It was quiet for a while until someone walked up to our table.

"So is it true, Sherlock?" someone snickered.

I looked up from my plate. "Mycroft?"

"Oh so you have met my brother?" Sherlock asked.

"Your brother?"

"Yes, me and the little freak are brothers," Mycroft said. "Need to rethink my offer?"

"Offer – " Sherlock started.

"No!" I snapped. "You wanted me to spy on your brother?"

"Oh," Sherlock said. "He offered you money?"

"Yea – "

"Why didn't you agree? We could have split the money," he said, a bit disappointed.

"W-what?"

"We could have made some crock story to tell him."

"Sherlock! I would not be made into a jerk – "

"You could have fooled me."

Mycroft glared at Sherlock. "Hear the new rumors? Apparently you play for the other team now," he smirked. Sherlock didn't say anything, just stared blankly at his brother. "And you just had to drag your poor roommate into it."

"It doesn't bother me," I retorted.

"Aren't you such a good person then," Mycroft sneered.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock scolded. Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

"Not going to say I'm not surprised Sherlock. I never figured you'd have feelings for anything."

"Now now Mycroft, no need to be rash," Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

"Is that why you deny Molly – "

"Mycroft, would it kill you to shut up?" Sherlock asked.

"I was just saying, dear brother," he sneered.

"Hey Mycroft how's the diet going?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"You asshole."

"I learned from you, dear brother."

Mycroft glared one final time before leaving us to eat in piece.

"Sorry, my brother can be a pain," Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"He's worst than you. And that's something," I joked.

Sherlock didn't reply to my joke and I ate the rest of my dinner in silence.

* * *

><p>I woke up the next morning to hurried, raised voices. I groaned. It was my Saturday for Christ's sake. I rolled out of bed and still in my pajamas (I was not changing until at least noon) and limped out of my room.<p>

"I told you! You're not going to find anything," I saw Sherlock pace, glaring at his brother.

"Anderson, check his room," Mycroft ignored Sherlock and instructed Anderson.

"My pleasure Mycroft," Anderson sneered, going into Sherlock's room.

"Anderson! I don't want your stupidity to contaminate my things!" Sherlock followed him.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" I groaned.

"Drug bust," Mycroft smirked.

"We don't do drugs."

"You don't do drugs."

"Yes, like I said – wait? What are you implying?"

"We're here for Sherlock."

"Sherlock doesn't do drugs," I rolled my eyes. At this time, Sherlock had come out of his room with Anderson.

"John … " He must of heard me.

"No this isn't fair – "

"John – "

"All because you don't get along you don't – "

"John! Stay quiet," Sherlock shushed me.

"What? …_No_," I gaped.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter because you aren't going to find anything," he hissed.

"How do we not know if he hid it in John's room?" Donovan suggested.

"Hey!" Lestrade walked in from the hall. "Leave John out of this."

"He could of hid it in John's room before he moved in," Anderson offered.

"When I unpacked, I looked through everything. Nothing was there," I gave a slight glare to the uninvited guests. "What gives you the right to even search in here?"

"This is an intervention. And I told you. I'm a teacher assistant. To the dean," Mycroft sneered.

"Mycroft, Anderson, Donovan," Lestrade groaned. "We didn't find anything. Can we leave them alone now?"

"Yes, especially since you all woke me up," I groaned.

"Well excuse me, Princess," Anderson sent a look my way. I shot him a look right back.

"Fine, we're done here anyway," Mycroft said.

"Yes Mycroft, go home and tell mummy how you stopped me from shooting up," Sherlock huffed, dismissing the group with a hand. Mycroft stared at him before leaving, taking his lackeys with him.

Lestrade turned around at the door. "Sorry Holmes, I tried to stop – "

"Yes yes Lestrade, I know," Sherlock sighed before slipping into his armchair.

When they all left, I turned to Sherlock. "What – Drugs? Really?"

"They help me think."

"So what is it? Pot? Pills?"

"Cocaine."

"Cocaine? Seriously Sherlock…"

"It helps me think," he repeated.

"It can kill you!"

"So can cigarettes," he added.

"Drugs though? And cocaine? Really? Is that why Mycroft wanted me to spy on you?"

"Oh please, you think Mycroft cares for my health? All he cares about is ratting on me to 'mommy'," Sherlock groaned.

"….Who else knows? About it?"

"Everyone. Mycroft made sure of it."

"Mrs. Hudson?"

"Yes, that's why she lets them search in here." He made a face. "… She _means_ well."

"Sherl … Look there's – "

"What did you just call me?"

"…Sherl? Short for Sherlock? Nickname?" I raised an eyebrow.

"…Go on …"

"Like I was saying," I made a face. "There's other ways to 'help you think' without using cocaine."

"And I have yet to find them."

* * *

><p><em><strong>TUMBLR<strong>__**_DASHBOARD_WATS-UP-SON_MESSAGES(0)**_

_TEXT|PICTURE|QUOTE|LINK|CHAT|AUDIO|VIDEO_

**Wats-up-son. Feb. 1****st****, 2011**

_It's been one hell of a few days. First, the rumors about me and Sherl that we're gay. I have a whole rat prepared but I'll save it for another day. And omg! Mycroft! That's Sherl's brother, who's posse seem to consist of Anderson and Donovan – but my God is he a little – never mind, I should keep this blog PG … Ish. At least Lestrade has some common sense._

_-J.W._


	4. Chapter 4: Like and Other Drugs

I went back to sleep, waking up at one in the afternoon.

"Hey Sherl," I called as I walked out of my room.

"Hrm?" he was still in his armchair, dressed though, scrolling on his laptop.

"Do we have food in here? I really don't want to go all the way to the dining hall," I groaned.

"In the fridge," he waved a hand towards the kitchenette. I sulked in there, yawning, searching the fridge.

"…All we have is jam and bagels … I'll take it," I grabbed them and made myself a sandwich. "You want?"

"No I'm fine. Have you looked at your blog?"

"Huh? No not yet. You actually read it?"

"I skim it, yes," he shrugged.

"So? Should I read it?"

"I'd advise it."

I shrugged and grabbed my laptop, putting it on the little kitchen table and opening it. I clicked open Tumblr and my dash appeared.

_**TUMBLR**__**_DASHBOARD_WATS-UP-SON_MESSAGES(27)**_

"Whoa …" I clicked on my messages. They were all anons, commenting on how gay I sounded with Sherlock. A few asking me if I do drugs with Sherlock. I deleted all of them and closed the tab, shutting down my laptop.

"Told you," he said.

"And I told you, it doesn't bother me," I shrugged, bringing my sandwich to the living room. "People are petty."

"You're being dragged down with me," he stated, scrolling his mouse.

"I'll live."

"You're welcomed to move out; there are single rooms still open."

That took me by surprise. "Do you _want_ me to move out?"

"I'm indifferent to it, but if it was better for you – "

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Then by all means, stay," he said, eyes never leaving the screen. "I'll be out today, so you'll have the dorm to yourself. Though I advise checking out the library. Or the rec center. It might help your leg."

I just gave a noise in response. Really, all I wanted to do on my day off was be lazy and sleep. But I guess human interaction wouldn't hurt.

* * *

><p>So I took Sherlock's advice. Once he left I got dressed and headed towards the library. I pulled a few books off the shelf – just some short horror stories – and sat myself down. The library was relatively empty, save for Irene Alder sitting a few chairs away. My god, even with her hair in a messy bun, wearing loose sweats, and studying did she look stunning.<p>

"Hello John," she looked up, moving her fingers in a small wave. "What brings you here?"

"Boredom," I joked, waving back. "There's not much to do here on a Saturday, is there?"

Irene just laughed. "Oh, the town has some things," she suggested. "But it will cost you."

I made a gesture to empty my wallets. "Too bad I'm broke."

"You're preaching to the choir John," she laughed again.

"So? What are you doing here? Last minute studying?" I eyed the science books that piled by her.

"No, just some light reading," she dismissed the books with her hand. "Just good to know my sciences. And you? Looking for some scary stories to tell Sherlock later?"

Ugh, here it is. Another blow to Sherlock's and my sexuality. "We're not gay," I retorted.

"I never said you were. You're dorm mates," she smirked.

My cheeks turned a pinch of red. "O-oh. Sorry just everyone – "

"I know. I have a Tumblr, too. Many people are interesting in your bedroom endeavors, aren't they?"

I shrugged. "Whatever fancies them," I said with a bit of a sassy smile. That made Irene laugh again, and trust me, I could hear her laugh all day.

"Well John, how would you like to go on a 'broke' wall through town? I'll even show you around," she offered, getting up and collecting her books.

"I'm actually from here, but I wouldn't mind spending some time outside," I got up as well, grabbing the books I took out. We checked them out ad left, Irene stopping me.

"Meet me in the front doors in fifteen minutes, okay?" she said.

"Um sure."

* * *

><p>When I met Irene at the front doors, she went from 'reading in sweats' to 'night on the town', even though the clock only read four pm.<p>

"You're really wearing that hideous jumper?" she asked.

"What? It's warm," I furrowed my brow.

"Ready, my dear Watson?" she hooked arms with me.

I could only give her a nod as we traversed through town, arm in arm. It wasn't a date, I reminded myself, but a social outing.

We went all over, exploring the shops and cafes, the tiny bakeries and the museums. I should her my house, probably empty since my parents were at work, and my sister was away.

"Nice place, John," she commented as we went inside. It was a small, two story house. "Your room?"

I led her upstairs, passing Harry's room with a second thought and led her straight to mine. It was the cliché of a boy's room. Sports posters hung wall to wall, pictures of friends clung to a corkboard. The football I scored my old school's winning touchdown carelessly placed on my dresser. A giant 'get-well' card from my stay in the hospital after being shot was hung above my bed.

"Why didn't you take any of this?" she asked.

I shrugged. "It didn't seem important at the time."

Irene looked around my room, eying the pictures. "You miss it?"

I gave a half nod. "Yes and no. I miss my teammates, and the fact I didn't have gay, or junkie rumors surrounding me."

"No, you spread them about others?"

"Huh? No. That's stupid."

"But your teammates?"

I shrugged. "Some times. I never cared for it though. And it was never major." Irene didn't say anything about it.

"So what happened? Why are you even dorming? You live close enough," she mused.

"I got into some trouble back home." I didn't give her any more information than that.

She accepted that and got up. "Well, my dear Watson, are you ready for a night on the town?"

* * *

><p>I didn't get back until ten o' clock. Irene knew all the places to go in town that didn't cost us much. When I got back, Sherlock still wasn't home. I decided to check my tumblr before passing out on my bed.<p>

_**TUMBLR**__**_DASHBOARD_WATS-UP-SON_MESSAGES(32)**_

I groaned and slammed my laptop shut. Fuck it, I'll deal with them tomorrow. I got up and stretched, retreating to my room to get dressed. After I changed I flopped on my bed. I heard the front door open and slam shut. Sherlock must be home. I heard someone trip and muttering of a few curse words. Soon my door pushed open and Sherlock tumbled in.

"John?" he squinted.

"Hey Sherl," I laid back and waved. I had my head back when I felt my bed grow heavier, and soon Sherlock was clinging next to me. "Sherlock?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Mhm John."

"Are you drunk?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No no I'm not drunk," he flopped about the bed, his speech slurred. He clung tighter to me as he spoke, closing the already minute space that separated us.

"…Are you stoned?"

"It. Helps. Me. Think," he repeated, poking me with a finger for each word. I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Sherl, why don't you go back in your own bed?"

"Much better, much comfier," he mumbled, burying his head in my arm. I sighed dramatically. "Fine Sherl, you can stay in here." I just hoped no one walked in. This is all they would need. I listened to Sherlock's mumbled musings, mostly about nonsense.

"Oh to hell wit' it. You'll be gone soon to," he whined.

"I told you, it doesn't bother me," I groaned.

"No no. _Everyone _does. And it sucks. Cause I like ya John."

"I like you, too, Sherl," I rolled my eyes again.

"No John. I mean I _like _like you John. And you'll just up and leave, just like everyone else. And I can't keep you here. Especially, when peple think I like them, like how Molly. How she likes me, And people go away. Girls, boys, everyone," he rambled.

"Sherlock!" I shushed him. "God just go to bed."

"See? I-I told you."

"I didn't kick you out of my bed, did I?"

Sherlock whined again, hugging my arm tighter and dozing off. I gave a yawned and drifted to sleep soon after.

* * *

><p>I woke up with a yawn and remembered that Sherlock had slept in my bed. I groaned as I tried and failed to free my arm. All I accomplished was waking up Sherlock.<p>

"Wuh," he mumbled, sitting up right. "John?"

"Morning Sleeping Beauty," I rolled my eyes. My arm was still trapped. Sherlock realized and quickly let go of it.

"What happened last night?" he asked quickly, ignoring my sneer.

"You came home, stoned, around uh ten thirty? Came into my bed, and fell asleep." No need to tell him about his self –pity party. Although he deserved to know.

Sherlock stared at me. "And? I know you're leaving something out."

"No –"

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not – "

"John!"

"…Fine. You went on this thing saying have 'everyone leaves you' and that you 'like like' me like a crush or something. "

Sherlock turned to me, a hint of worry on his face. "I said _that_?"

"Yea – "

Sherlock shushed me with a hand. "Look, it's nothing. You don't have to worry about my feelings or whatnot. It's best as if you pretend you never heard it."

"Sherlock?"

"And the offer to move out still stands."

"Sherlock?" I snapped my fingers. "What do you mean? It was the drugs talking last night, wasn't it?"

"You thought it was …. Oh that would have been helpful to know."

"Wait, it's true?"

Sherlock didn't look at me and instead just paced. I looked at him instead. "Sherl? Sherl? Well? Is it?"

Sherlock straightened himself out. "I identify as homo romantic," he explained. "So maybe, yes I might have a small crush on my dorm mate," he said, biting his lip.

I just blinked in response. "….What?"

Sherlock just shook his head. "The forms, to change rooms, just go ask Mrs. Hudson."

"I'm not –"

"I'll be out – "

"Not if you're just going to get ston – "

But Sherlock had already left, leaving the door open and me confused.

* * *

><p>I had no one to talk to. Did I feel things for Sherlock? I didn't know. He was a good friend, and in the short week we had spent as dorm mates, he had been the closest to a friend here. And he was brilliant. And when we were eating together, or the nights we spent, it was fun. And of course it was the physical attraction. If everyone wasn't so focused on the 'freak' inside, they noticed his looks as well. His dark curls covered his head wonderfully. His long face and the prominent cheek bones were a fine feature on him. His height, his build, and the way he carried himself besides being constantly ridiculed. I groaned, rubbing my face with my hand. I had no one to talk about this. No one here for sure, no one back home, and I wouldn't dare ask my team mates. So I went to the only resource I could think of.<p>

Tumblr.

I search homo romantic first. Mouthing the words as I read, I learned about Sherlock. Attraction to boys, but not sexually. Rather for the intimacy, affection, companionship, and other reasons. "Huh." I looked at the rest of the sexualities. There were so many. I just thought you were either gay or straight, and the whores claimed bi. But no. There was homosexual, heterosexual, homo romantic, bisexual, pansexual, panromantic, asexual, demisexual. And then the genders. No longer were there just male and female, but now agender? Transgender?

"Hey Sherlock, John I came to – Oh hi John, is Sherlock here?" Molly had walked in our open door.

"No," I replied, continuing to scroll through tumblr's 101class on sex.

"Oh well I brought you coffee – What's that?" she looked at my screen.

I looked between her and the laptop. Fuck. She was behind me. "N-nothing."

"Sexualities? Are you … ?"

I groaned. "No. I mean. I don't think so," I sighed. "I know it sounds stupid –"

"No, not really. Most people don't really know who they are. Can I help?"

I looked at her. "Uh I guess? I just don't get some of this. Whatever happened to original three?"

"All these have been here, always," she sat next to me.

"And how can someone not be a gender? Are they, like, a eunuch or something?"

"John! It's not about not having anything. It's about your parts don't define who you are. You don't identify with either sex," she informed. "Do you think you're –"

"No! All man here."

"Then what?"

"What are you, when you always liked the opposite sex, but there was one or two of the same sex you might have feelings for?"

"Well, I can't tell you what you are. But to point you in the right direction, bi and pan are a good guess."

"Yea about those two, aren't they the same?"

"No, not really. Bi is you like girls and boys. Pan is more board: you like girls, boys, agenders, trans. It's more of you love who the person is, not what they are."

I nodded. "But am I still bi or pan if it's only one time?"

Molly shrugged. "Reality? Sexuality is all up to you. These are just more labels. Yes they help people out, but in the end, we can't let others define who we are. This person – "

"One of my old teammates," I lied.

"This can be the only boy you like. And that's fine," she thought for a minute. "Know what might help? The Kinsley Scale."

"The what?"

"On a scale from 1-6, then 0. Zero is more or less asexual, 1 is completely straight, 2 is straight with some same sex thoughts, 3 is like bi or pan, 4 is bi or pan leading towards more of the same sex, 5 is gay with straight thoughts, and six is gay," she explained.

I thought about it for a second. "So I guess I'm a 2?"

"Could be. I can't decide for you," she just offered a smile. "But I hope I helped."

I nodded. "You did. Thank you."

* * *

><p>I went to visit Mrs. Hudson later on.<p>

I knocked on her door. "M-Mrs. Hudson?"

I heard her scurry to the door and open in with a grin. "Hello John, locked out?"

"Um no, I just … You know Sherlock for a while right?" I asked.

"Oh of course! Ever since he came here about 5 years ago to start school. Such a scawny thing, and look at him now," she chuckled. "I'm glad he has someone like you now, he's been alone for a while, poor thing."

"Do you know …" I didn't want to out Sherl. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure hun."

I took a deep breath, and in a whisper, I asked her. "Do you think it's possible for me to like Sherlock? I mean, like a crush?"

"Oh Sherlock will be so happy!" she cooed.

"W-what?" I was a little taken aback by her outburst.

"Sherlock! He'll be so happy. I know he seems so distance, but he has a problem opening up. But oh, when he first learned he was getting a dorm mate, he told to have moving papers ready, since once they saw him, they'd want to switch. And when you didn't, I swear I saw a hint of a smile. Then, when we sat and had meals with him, and defended him from his brother and Anderson and Donovan – Lestrade told him that – he came straight here and told me all about it. Then the fact you were amazed on how he deduces everything, he was beaming. And when you kept reminding him you weren't phase by the rumors and still stayed with him. And this morning – "

"This morning?"

"This morning, he came to me with such a worried face on. He was afraid he scared you off for good."

"He didn't. I might – I think I do – like him back. I've been on the computer all day trying to figure everything out."

"He'll be happy to know that. But don't do this just because he said he likes you – "

"I'm not. It's just … I have my reasons." He was my first friend here, he understood my problems, both physical and mental.

"Well, as long as you do. I reckon you should go back to your dorm and wait for him. He should be home soon."

"Where did he go?" I asked.

"Oh, he's been in the labs all day. But they close soon, so I'd be back in your dorm if you want to settle this tonight."

I nodded and got up, grabbing my crane and smiling. "Thank you Mrs. Hudson. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good day John," she waved as I left.

* * *

><p>It was ten before I heard our dorm door open and close. I was still searching sexualities (though, a lot of these didn't have anything to do with sex) and I looked up to see Sherlock walking in, sober and with a blank face. He caught what I was searching and frowned.<p>

"You don't have to do this."

"It's not –"

"There's no need to make me feel better."

"I'm not – Jeez! I'm not looking this up for you."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "Then for who."

I looked back at my computer screen. "I ... For me. I'm looking this up for me."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't know what I am. I still don't, but Molly –"

"Molly knows!"

"She thinks it's just for me, I didn't say you. Even when I talked to Mrs. Hudson, but she knows about you already," I pointed out. "I-I don't have anyone else to go to. My friends from my old school wouldn't understand, I can't talk to my parents about it – they would flip. The only person who would probably be best would be my sister, but I haven't talk to her since she left."

Sherlock sat on his faithful armchair. He folded his hands and stared at them. "So what does that mean?"

I leaned back, closing my laptop and putting it on the table. "It means. I don't know what to label myself. But I do like you Sherlock," I sighed. "But I never – I mean, I haven't like a boy like this. I mean – I couldn't. If I did, my team …" I groaned.

Sherlock nodded. "And your parents?"

"They already have a lesbian daughter, to have a gay son?"

Sherlock stared at his fingers again.

"What about you? Your parents -?"

"My mother gave up on me long ago. She figured she had my brother."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. So," he asked. "Where does this put us?"

I scratched behind my head. "W-we can try it. Just help me figure it out. What I can do with homo romantics …? Like, I know no sex, but the other stuff – "

"Other stuff ?"

"Like, kissing o-or –"

"It just means sex doesn't appeal to me."

"Unnecessary like eating?" I chuckled.

Sherlock tightened his lips and chuckled along. "I guess that's right," he sighed. "You're not just doing this for me?"

I shook my head. "No. For me too," I explained.

"Well then it's fine. We have here, and of course we sit at meals together. So others don't have to know. It will just be between to two of us."

"Sherlock I told you, I don't care."

He didn't seem to hear me. Sherlock seemed to be working a mile a minute in his mind. So I did what I'd normally do with my girlfriend, and got up and gave him a light kiss. Sherlock was taken aback, and stared up at me.

"No good?" I asked.

Sherlock just shook his head and kissed me back. Is=t was a small gesture, and was short lived as we pulled away. Sherlock got up and smirked.

"See you in the morning, John. And remember, our secret."

* * *

><p><em><strong>TUMBLR<strong>__**_DASHBOARD_WATS-UP-SON_MESSAGES(56)**_

_TEXT|PICTURE|QUOTE|LINK|CHAT|AUDIO|VIDEO_

**Wats-up-son. Feb. 2****nd****, 2011**

_If I get anymore of your fucking messages I'm going to have Sherl find out who you are and I will personally beat the shit out of you._

_-J.W._


	5. Chapter 5: The Breakfast Surprise

I surprisingly was able to get to sleep alright last night. I woke up the next morning and stayed lying in my bed. So me and Sherlock, we were together now, just like that. I put my hands behind my head and sighed comfortably. I thought for a moment before getting up, walking into Sherlock's room. He was asleep over the covers, lying on his back with one arm above his head and the other across his stomach. I went over and slipped into the bed, lying next to him.

"You didn't limp," Sherlock said eyes still closed.

"How'd you …? Never mind," I chuckled. "I thought you were sleeping."

He gave a half shrug and opened his eyes. "I was … Ish."

I chuckled and turned to my side, to face him. Or I would have if he wasn't taller than me. Instead I tossed an arm over him, lazily, my hand landing loosely above his waist. He shifted, moving his body a bit down.

"Sorry," I quickly moved my hand up.

"No, no it's fine," he assured, dropping his arm around my shoulders. "Why did you come in here anyway?"

"You spent the night in my bed hogging it, I can spend a morning in yours, hogging it," I replied.

Sherlock chuckled. "Hogging it? Shouldn't you be a bit taller to be able to do that?"

"…That was a low blow."

"I'd say."

I groaned. "Walked right into that didn't I?"

"Yes you did. Come on, get dressed. Breakfast will be starting soon."

I groaned, closing my eyes. "No, can't we just skip it?"

"Skip it? Then people will really talk," he pointed out.

I didn't fight it, but just groaned. "But I'm comfortable."

Sherlock laughed. "Go get dressed," he said.

I made a face and got up, limping terribly back to my room.

* * *

><p>We made our way to the Dining Hall. As we waited in line I realized that yet again Sherlock wasn't going to eat.<p>

"Eat something," I gave him a look.

"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, eat something," I was close to demanding him.

He dropped his voice to a low whisper. "So now that we're … ya know, you're going to order me to eat?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes," I said flatly. "Now go get something to eat."

He chuckled and grabbed an apple, joining me at our usual table. Molly spotted us and walked over.

"May I sit here?" she asked.

I nodded. "Fine by me." Sherlock just shrugged.

"So John! How did it go with that girl from your old school?" she asked.

"Girl …?" I furrowed my brow. Oh! Yes. She still thought I was talking about a boy from my old school. "Oh, well, I decided to leave it be. I don't think she would like me back anyway."

Sherlock gave me a perplexed look as Molly frowned. "Awe I'm sorry to hear that John. Though I'm sure anybody would be happy to have you."

I chuckled. "Thanks Molly."

Sherlock just went back to his apple. I wanted to roll my eyes at him; he could not really be that thick.

* * *

><p>In Math class I got a text from Sherlock.<p>

**Forensics Lab.**

**Come if convenient. **

**-SH**

I ignored the text and continued working on the problems on the board. Soon though, I got another text.

**If inconvenient, come anyway.**

**-SH**

I sighed and texted him back.

**I'm in class, I can't leave.**

**-JW**

No sooner did I send the text did the class phone ring. The teacher went to answer. "…Alright. John? Collect your things. Your science teacher wants to discuss something with you in the labs."

I raised an eyebrow, grabbing my bag and my crane. I limped over to the science building, the next one over, taking the lift and walking into the forensics lab.

"How did you -?"

"I plan to be the professor's assistant when I graduate. So I pretend to be it now," his eyes were glued to the table, studying something in a dish.

"So what's up? Why did you need me?" I asked.

"C'mere," he waved me over. I walked over, leaning on the table, next to him. "Yes?" I asked. Sherlock looked up from the table and gave me a kiss. He returned to his little dish.

I stared at him. "…That's all you wanted me for?"

"Yes. I needed help to clear my mind and since you're much more simpler to reach then drugs at the moment, I brought you here."

"I feel so used," I made a face.

"Oh shush," he said, standing away from the table. He smiled at me. "We have an empty lab for thirty minutes."

"What are you implying, Holmes?" I chuckled.

Sherlock held his hand out, hesitantly.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"You hesitated."

"No."

"I should be the hesitant one."

"I didn't hesitate!" he groaned. "Oh fine. But c'mon. You know how I am with these things."

"You told me – "

"I was under the influence –"

"And you brought me here. To kiss you. To help you think."

"It was necessary then!"

"So only when it's necessary for you it's okay."

"It's always okay –"

"Well?" I gave him a look.

Sherlock sighed and looked down. Then he took my hand, pulling us closer to the wall. His other hand slowly reached for my other hand, raising them both to his chest. He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking for a bit.

"You okay?"

"Yea …"

"But?"

"But … I don't how this is going to work with you being so much shorter – "

"Hey!" I glared lightly.

Sherlock chuckled. "I guess I can try."

I rolled my eyes and pulled his face down, starting the kiss. Sherlock paused at first but soon I felt his mouth open. Oh god, its official now, isn't it? I'm snogging with another boy. And it wasn't bad. Maybe it was just who I was kissing more that what I was. I untangled my fingers and ran a hand in Sherlock's hair. And my god it was soft.

"Hey Sherlock I figured – Oh!"

Sherlock shoved me away and we both saw Molly standing there, picking up the paper bag she dropped.

"S-sorry! I just figured you were in here and so I brought you some lunch …" she blushed.

"Molly! You should have knocked first –"Sherlock paced.

"Sorry! I-I didn't think you –"

"That's just it you didn't th –"

"Sherlock!" I shot him a look. "It's alright Molly."

"So is this what you were talking about yesterday? Not someone at your old school?" she asked.

"Yea," I said. "…You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

"What! Who do you think I am? You guys already get so much for just them thinking you two are. Imagine what they would do if they knew you were? Your secret is safe with me."

"We'll see about that," Sherlock paced.

"Why would I do that?" she asked.

"Because, Molly. You have a crush on me. Oh don't give me that look I know you did. This is a good payback."

"You really think that low of me Sherlock? Yes, alright, I did like you. But even if it was a girl, I wouldn't want you hurt," she sighed. "Plus, it's a bit of an upside that you didn't like me back not because of my looks or something."

Sherlock just shook his head. I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Ignore him. Thank you Molly."

"It's no problem John. I wish I knew you were here, I would have brought you lunch," she chuckled.

"Its fine, I'm not hungry," I shrugged.

"Me too," Sherlock stopped pacing and went back to what he was doing before.

I rolled my eyes. "He can be such a pain," I joked to Molly. Molly chuckled and shook her head. "It's alright, John."

* * *

><p>I slammed my laptop shut again. "I swear -!"<p>

"How many this time?" Sherlock asked, throwing darts at the wall.

"A hundred and four! I mean really! I had to shut off 'anons' but now they're doing it from their own blogs." I put the laptop on the end table to stop myself from throwing it across the dorm.

"I'm sorry John."

"Don't be. It's just annoying but I'll live."

Sherlock closed his own laptop. "John? C'mere," he motioned me over to his armchair. "Actually … Come join me on the couch?"

I got up and switched to the couch. Sherlock plopped down next to me, putting his feet against my side.

"Hrm? What?" I titled my head.

"Huh? Nothing. Just wanted you next to me," he reached over for his laptop. He flicked it open and continued to scroll through the internet.

"What are you looking at?"

"My blog. No one ever goes to it. I don't think they know it exists. All for the better," he shrugged.

"And what do you blog about?"

"Oh, typical things. Riddles, crime scene photos, all the different kinds of tobacco ash – "

"You know normal people blog photos of cats and Doctor Who. The occasional Harry Potter," I teased.

"Since when am I normal?" he smirked.

"True," I laughed, laying my head back. I felt Sherlock get up. "Wh –"He landed back on the couch, having turned around, and his head now against my side. "…Comfortable?"

"Very."

I snorted a laugh and dropped my arm, letting it land on Sherlock. I drummed my fingers against his chest. I turned to look at his blog, spotting a cryptic message in his ask box.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Don't know, don't care. Some 'anon' sent it to me. I grew bored of it."

"You can't solve it?"

"I don't care to."

"Admitting defeat?" I teased.

"No," he huffed. He threw his head back to look at me. "It's a Caesar shift cipher. Replace each letter with one 15 letters after it."

I looked at the message. "S …H …E …"

Sherlock groaned. "God this painfully slow," he teased.

"Sherlock I'm watching you."

He gave me a look. "Hey I was only teas – "

"No that's what it says. 'Sherlock I'm watching you'," I pointed to the screen.

Sherlock looked confused before returning his attention to his computer screen. "Hrm."

"They could just mean they're following your blog. One of your followers – "

"I have 27 followers, eleven of them are conspiracy theorists, five are aspiring cops, five are my professors, five more is you, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Molly, and Lestrade, and one is a grandmother of six - great-grandmother to one – who likes detective novels, her grandchild made her a tumblr blog to keep in touch."

"It could be someone who doesn't have a tumblr," I shrugged.

"Perhaps. I'm not worried about it."

I chuckled and returned to my drumming.

"You stopped limping."

"Excuse me?"

"Your limp. It's gone. Well not entirely, you still limped when you switch classes. Probably because the crowds make you nervous."

"I haven't noticed," I said simply.

"Not many have," he shrugged. "It's a small thing."

"And you noticed?"

"I always notice."

"Creeper," I mocked lightly, swatting his chest.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until the end of breakfast when our day instantly became interesting.<p>

It started out normal, me and Sherl at our usual table, snide remarks from everyone, more than one from Anderson, a dirty look from Donovan, an apologetic look from Lestrade, and a sleepy looking Molly sitting by us.

"Hey boys, may I?" she asked.

I took a bite out of my breakfast sandwich and nodded. Sherlock just shrugged.

"Thanks guys, so what's up?" she asked.

"Just wa – " I started.

"Well since no one has beaten the shit out of us yelling derogatory words, I assume you kept your promise," Sherlock whispered.

"Sherl chill – "

"Of course I did!" she replied in a whisper.

I rolled my eyes as the two went back and forth. It probably would of went on forever is Lauren didn't come screaming in.

"Sh-She's d-dead! Dead!" she shrieked, visibly shaking. "Sh-she's not waking up!" She was in hysterics.

"Sherlock take it down a few notches," I whispered, as he watched Lauren with wide, intrigued eyes. He looked a little too excited. He made a face at me but listened, straightening himself out. A teacher had gotten hold of Lauren, calming her down enough to only have her scream again.

"Jessica! She's not waking up she's dead!" She cried.

_**TUMBLR**__**_DASHBOARD_WATS-UP-SON_MESSAGES(103)**_

_TEXT|PICTURE|QUOTE|LINK|CHAT|AUDIO|VIDEO_

**Wats-up-son. Feb. 4****th****, 2011**

_Classes are canceled for today since Jessica was in fact, found dead in her bed._

_-J.W._


	6. Case1: A Study in Color Part 1

_**( Author's Note: **__There's some … Creative liberty taken in this chapter. Sorry about that! Also, I was wondering how some you guys would feel if I made a Sherlock fic in present time involving Mycroft having a daughter (around 16 years old?) and her and Sherlock's relationship. I got the idea from a 'Sherlock confession'. Thoughts? __**)**_

"Sherlock! Sit down you're making me dizzy!" I threw a crumpled up piece of paper at him. It bounced off his shoulder and he made a face.

"But John! How are you just sitting there! This – This! – it's a murder! In **our** school!" Sherlock bounced around.

"Sherlock it's not a murder – "

"How do you know?"

"Sherl, it's probably just a suicide. Or an overdose –"

"Jessica was clean. And too full of herself to kill herself," Sherlock said in a matter of fact tone.

"Well at least we won't have to worry about you committing suicide," I rolled my eyes. Sherlock stuck his tongue out at me.

"Look, do you want to go check it out or am I going to have to go by myself?"

"And how are you going to accomplish that?"

"Follow me and I'll show you," he smirked, dangling the idea in my face.

I chewed on my bottom lip before finally. "… Fine let's go."

* * *

><p>"Sherlock … John … <strong>HOLMES AND WATSON.<strong>" We heard Lestrade call after us. Soon both of his hands were on our shoulders, holding us back. We turned around and spotted him and his usual gang, Anderson and Donovan.

"What?" Sherlock asked, annoyed by their presence.

"Where are you two going?" he asked us, raising an eyebrow.

"No – " I started.

Sherlock interrupted me. "Checking out the crime scene –" "For god's sake it's not a crime scen –" "You don't know that!"

"When you two stop your lover's quarrel, would one of you mind telling us how you plan on going in there? The room is off-limits." Anderson folded his arms.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned around, continuing walking down to Jessica's room. I gave the others a 'eh' face and followed him.

They followed us as well. "You're sick," Donovan snarled at Sherlock.

"Oh?" he mused.

"You're a freak. You actually want to see this? Sick. No – I can't – I don't – You're just a freak!" she cried, her voice higher than usual.

"I'm a freak?"

"Yes!"

"I'm the freak," he said, looking thoughtful. "Yet you guys are still following me…" he smirked. I snorted a laugh as the look was wiped off Donovan's face. "Well? Do you want in or not?"

"….Fine, but you still didn't –"

"Gel," Sherlock tuck his hand out, interrupting her.

"Excuse me?"

"Your hair isn't that naturally curly, so you crimp it. Not with hairspray because your hair still looks wet. Therefore, gel. And since you must need to fix it throughout the day – cheap gel by the looks of it – you have a small bottle in your bag?" he said, more confirming than asking.

She sighed and pulled it out, tossing it to him. "Gel? What is that going to do?"

Sherlock ignored her and started to work on his hair, trying to use the gel to tame his curls. He made a face at the hair product, as if it was Anderson. It took a while, but soon his hair was pushed to the side and –

"Oh my God you look like your brother," I grimaced.

"That's the plan," he tossed Donovan back her gel.

"You're plan is to look like your brother?" Lestrade asked.

"Yup," he nodded.

"Only an idiot would fall for that," Anderson rolled his eyes.

"Have you seen who runs this school?" Sherlock asked.

"Still, you'll need more than gel to do this," I pointed out.

"So little faith in me," he sounded almost offended. We reached the hallway to Jessica's room. There were two security guards there.

"Excuse, you can't be –"

"Holmes, Mycroft," Sherlock said, his voice changed to his brother's. He flipped out his wallet and flashed an ID – Mycroft's ID.

"O-oh Mr. Holmes," the guard nodded. I have to bit the inside of my lip to keep myself from laughing. "And them?"

"Accomplices I need my accomplices," he waved a hand dismissingly. The guards were about to protest but Sherlock already opened the door and pushed us inside, closing the door behind us.

I wasn't expecting her to be right there. I mean. Right. There. She was on her bed, face down, almost as if she had just blacked out from drinking. I heard a weird noise coming from behind. I turned my head to see Donovan covering her mouth, her face pale. Anderson had gone wide eyed kind of just staring at her. And Lestrade had looked so sad.

"Brilliant! The coppers haven't arrived here yet," Sherlock went over to the bed, inspecting Jessica. The others weren't watching but I saw Sherlock have a flash of excitement across his face.

"What –"

"Sh!" Sherlock shushed me, putting a finger to his lips. He went looking around the room.

"Hey! Don't do that –" Donovan went to stop him.

"Oh stop it," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm looking for her bag."

"Her book bag? It's right here," Lestrade pointed to it.

"No no her bag. Pocketbook, purse, whatever you call it," he groaned when he couldn't find it. "She went out without one? You barely see a girl without one in school."

"Maybe she lost it?" I offered.

"Or the killer has it," Sherlock said.

"What makes you think she was killed?" Lestrade asked.

"She died of asphyxiation. No vomit, so she couldn't have choked on it. No bruises on her neck, either though," Sherlock paced the room. While everyone else was bus, I went closer to Jessica's body. I saw something in her fist.

"What's this?" I tried to see. "Ruh … Ray … Rache?" I tilted my head.

"What?" they all turned to me.

"There's a note in her hand. It says Rache? What's that?"

"Rache … Oh!" Anderson hopped. "It-It's German for revenge."

"How do you know that?" Sherlock asked.

"Because idiot I take German 04," Anderson made a face. "If she was killed it could be for revenge. Maybe she pissed someone off in Germany."

"Yes very good except that she was born and raised in Whales and never been to Germany. Kind of hard on a working class budget. God Anderson is it hard being this stupid?" Sherlock sighed.

"Oh please it's a good guess," Anderson glared. "What's your _brilliant_ deduction than Mr. Detective?"

"She was trying to write Rachel?" he said, as if it was obvious.

"Rachel? Why?" Lestrade asked.

"Well that's what we need to find out, right?" I shrugged. "Well that and the killer?" If there was one.

"Exactly," Sherlock grinned. "Well, I'm done here. So are the rest of you. Hope you enjoyed it. Good Morning," Sherlock straightened out and went to leave. We quickly followed him as he bid the guards good day.

* * *

><p>We were back in our room and I had to admit, it was boring as hell.<p>

"I wish there was something to do," I groaned.

Sherlock shrugged, sitting in his armchair in deep thought. His mind must be going crazy with Jessica and Rachel. I returned to my laptop, ignoring tumblr all together. Instead, I was on Facebook, looking up all my old teammates.

"Who is it?"

"Huh?" I looked up.

"Rachel. Who is it?"

"Friend?" I offered. "Girlfriend? Sister? Mom?"

"She was new here Lauren's her only real friend. She's straight, and wouldn't she just say mom?"

"Then I don't know," I shrugged.

"Oh come on. Who would you think of before you died?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "I-I don't know."

"Come on! There's got to be someone. Someone so important, they were your last words," he brought his feet onto the armchair. "If you were going to die, your last words, what would they be?"

I sighed, closing my eyes. "Please, God, let me live."

"Oh come on, you can be more creative than that. Use your imagination John!" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

I closed my laptop and took a shaky breathe. "I-I don't have to."

Sherlock actually was taken by surprise. I sighed and put my laptop on the table. I could feel Sherlock looking at me.

"When we went into Jessica's room, you were so calm," Sherlock finally said.

"So were you."

"Yea but I'm the freak. You're relatively normal."

I scratched behind my head. "No reason."

Sherlock moved his mouth around. "Your limp – "

"Stop it."

"I'm just saying, if they wanted to ruin your life, they would have shot your knees. Then you couldn't play football anymore."

"Yea so?" I said, my leg shaking.

"John?" Sherlock was now all of a sudden next to me on the sofa.

I sighed, taking another unstable breathe. "Me and my friend. W-we were walking and they grabbed us and the next thing I remember is I'm on my knees with a gun against the back of my head and my friend lying face down on the ground with a bullet hole through his. And then I ran. They fired. I tried to get out of the way and it hit my shoulder. Then someone must of called the cops and then I woke up in the hospital," my voice was cracking, my breathing speeding up. I dropped my head, trying to keep it together. Imagine my shock as I felt Sherlock pull me into a stiff, awkward hug. I really didn't know how to react so I just stayed still. He put his head in my neck and sighed into it. "Stop it."

"What?" he asked into my skin.

"I don't need sympathy."

"I'm not giving you it."

"Or pity."

"Nor that either. Isn't this what people do when someone they care for is sad?" I felt his eyebrows rise.

"I … I guess," I shrugged. "But usually it's a little less stiff," I teased dryly.

As if those were the magic words, his arms relaxed, getting more comfortable around me. "So is this what your night terrors are about. PTSD?" he asked.

"Yea most of the time," I sighed. "It's fine."

Sherlock didn't say anything, just stayed in the hug. But soon my own heart had stopped pounding and I rested my head on his, relaxing my body. I felt his head move, his lips finding my cheek.

"Hrm?" I raised an eyebrow.

"It's … You needed one," he mumbled, pressing his forehead to my cheek. I felt the corners of my face tug up as I smiled, turning my head to kiss his forehead.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>Jessica wasn't the last death. The next day, another student was found dead, then another the next day. They cancelled classes for the week, saying that until further notice classes were put on hold.<p>

"We need to talk to Lauren. She knew Jessica the best. If we can find out what happened to Jessica, we can solve the rest of these murders," Sherlock explained. He had no doubt that's what they were now.

"She hasn't talked to anyone all week, what makes you think she'll talk to you?" I asked, throwing a rubber ball against the wall.

"She won't. **You** on the other hand – "

"What?" I caught the ball and raised my eyebrows.

"Yes you – "

"Why me?"

"You're nice, friendly. Not to mention good looking."

"… Go on," I nodded.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And she'll be more likely to open up to you," he stated.

"Okay and what are you going to do? Stalk us to make sure I get everything?"

"Huh? Oh no I have something else to do."

"Like?"

"You'll see," he smirked.

"…Should I be worried?"

"Oh no not at all," he reassured. "Well ... No no not at all."

"Oh well that's reassuring," I chuckled. "Alright, when do you want me to do this?"

"Tonight. Lauren's been sleeping in Molly's dorm, since she has one to herself and Lauren's and Jessica's room is obviously off limits. It's fine if Molly's there, she won't think you're up to anything. I'll tell you what you need to say."

"I feel horrible for taking advantage of Lauren though," I admitted.

"Think of it as us doing her a favor," Sherlock pointed out. "Tonight, at Molly's."

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**Wats-up-son. Feb. 8****th****, 2011**

_I guess a few murders make you guys calm down on these asks, huh? _

_-J.W._


	7. Case1: A Study in Color Part 2

_**( Author's note:** the date on the blog in the last chapter is supposed to be the 6th. Sorry! **)**_

When it grew dark and the clock had read seven pm, we were still in our dorm. Sherlock had finally closed his laptop and descended from his armchair.

"John, I'm going out. You should go talk to Lauren now," he said, pulling on his coat and wrapping a blue scarf around his neck.

"What am I going to say?" I asked. "You never told me you know."

"Oh just improvise. How sorry you are for her lost, you're here if she needs to talk to someone," he rambled on.

"Oh you're no help," I rolled my eyes.

"Oh come on, you're nice you'll be able to do it."

"Oh thanks," I chuckled dryly, grabbing my cane and getting up.

* * *

><p>I knocked on Molly's dorm and was greeted by an overly cheerful Molly.<p>

"Oh hi John," she smiled weakly. "Come in come in."

I clanked my crane to the living room, where Lauren was sitting on their armchair. She had a blanket draped around her shoulder and shakily holding a tea mug. "Hey Lauren."

She gave a little jump and looked up. "Oh hi um Joe – No John. S-sorry," she gave an apologetic smile.

"No it's fine, we never really met," I smiled back, sitting on the sofa. "I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay."

"O-oh thank you," she nodded. "I-I'm …Fine."

I sighed, getting comfortable. "I know … Uh it's alright I know it's not."

She looked down and glared. "How the bloody hell do you know?"

"I … I um …" I took a deep breath. "You and Jessica were close right?"

"Of course. I had a single, she came here in the beginning of the year," she still didn't look up, nor lessen her glare. "She came here on a scholarship, and she was this poor girl from Whales. I took her under my wing, and we became best friends. Good enough?" she scoffed.

"Lauren look, I … I know how it feels to lose your best friend," I said.

At this she did look up, but the glare was still there, like she didn't believe me.

I took another deep breath. "My limp? I changed schools in the middle of the year?" I paused. "I-I was there. And I watched my best friend die. Because of something as stupid as a sports game."

Lauren's look finally softened, and I continued. "It was hard. I'm still not over it. I don't know if I ever will be. So trust me, I know."

She sat up straight. "I'm sorry John."

"It's fine, but just so you know, I'm here to talk to. I'm probably the only one here who can relate," I gave her a sad smile.

"Our own little club," she chuckled dryly. "John … Do you ever feel like it should have been you?"

"Who's dead? Always. It was luck that I wasn't shot first."

She nodded. "I – We went out. And she wanted to stay a bit longer, but I had a test the next day. I had the car, so she said she'd take a cab. T-that was the last … If I just stayed, or made her go home," her voice was cracking. "I-I wanted her to have fun she never went out before. She was h-having so muh-much fun," she broke down. I lifted myself up with my crane, and limped over, setting myself on my good knee on the ground and wrapping my arms around her.

"It's alright," I ran a hand in her hair.

"It was stupid. I told her 'Come! We'll have fun!' I said 'Woodlit! It's a new club! I got us the ID's!' No she wanted to stay in, rent a movie, but I wanted her to have fun," she rambled on. "She was afraid, and I shouldn't blame her after what happened."

"What happened?" I asked. "I-if it's alright."

Lauren chewed on her lip. "S-she … Jess … It wasn't at club but at her school dance … She was raped. And oh she was supposed to have a baby – a girl – but she miscarried. She even had a name picked out. Rachel. T-that's why she changed schools. She got kicked out for being pregnant. She went to a Catholic school. Sh-she was too scared to say she was raped. I-I tried comforting her. But then, a few weeks ago, I woke up from her hysterically crying. She had miscarried."

_Rachel!_ "O-oh my … I'm sorry."

"Oh it was before you were here, so don't worry about it. She gained such a reputation from it. The rumors spread of how she was a wh-whore. But it wasn't true. You don't understand how rumors – Oh … Nevermind."

"Yea, I know," I shrugged. "It's whatever."

"No no it's not fair. I'm sorry John. I-I listened to those stupid rumors about you when I should have known better. Hell, I only knew you by Sherlock's boyfriend."

_Oh how right you are._ "It's fine, trust me."

Lauren gave me a smile, a real one this time. "You're too nice for any of this John. Really, you are."

Molly finally joined us, bringing me a cup of tea. "He really is," she echoed Lauren. "Sherlock's lucky to have you as a friend."

"We're lucky to have you here in general," Lauren chuckled.

I blushed, giving a small chuckled. "O-oh thanks guys."

"It's nothing John. Would you like to stay for dinner with us? We were going to make something here. Sherlock can come too," Molly said, looking at Lauren to agree.

Lauren nodded. "Of course."

"I'll stay, but Sherlock went out," I said.

"Oh okay then. Help us cook then. We're making stir fry chicken," Molly smiled, prancing to the kitchen. Me and Lauren got up as well, making our way over.

* * *

><p>"Sherlock!" I called as I entered our dorm. He had returned, sitting hunched over in his armchair. "Sherlock hey!"<p>

"Hey John, I'm assuming it went well?" he asked, staring at the table.

"Yes! Get this, Rachel? It was the name of her unborn baby – "

"Oh, she was pregnant," he nodded. "I remember. Anything else?"

"They went to a club that night. Woodlit. They needed fake ID's for it. That was the last time Lauren saw Jessica."

"Fake ID's? How did they get them?"

"That's what I asked. She said Irene Alder was able to get them. She did it for free."

Sherlock took everything I was saying in. "Gimme your phone."

I raised an eyebrow but tossed it to him. "Why? Can't you use yours?"

"No," he unlocked it. I wasn't even going to ask him how he knew my password. His fingers flew as he texted someone.

"Who are you texting?"

"Irene. We're going to need some fake ID's."

"What? Why?"

"We're going to the club. It'll help us."

I shrugged and sat on the couch, spotting the rainbow colored purse on the table. "What's that?"

"Jessica's bag."

"What – How - ?"

"I found it," he mused. "Oh, by the way. I didn't kill her," he rolled his eyes.

"I didn't say you did."

"Wouldn't the killer have it?"

I shrugged. "Where did you find it?"

"In the dumpster outside of her dorm. Someone tossed it. The killer probably," he reached in the bag, pulling out her things. A small calendar, a tube of Tylenol, a few tampons, pepper spray, and a wallet.

"This is very disrespectful."

"She'd thank us if it helps." He shuffled through the wallet, ignoring the small bills and peering at the card holder which held her fake ID. " 'Monica Byrnes' eh? Hrm I guess she could look like a Monica."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe we're actually going to the club," I mumbled to myself as I got changed. "This is stupid and it's not going to work. And if it does, we're going to die."<p>

"Oh quit complaining," I heard Sherlock tease from my door. I turned around and eyed him in his purple dress shirt and black jeans.

"Well, aren't you all dressed up." I didn't want to say that purple was his color. Oh no he was not getting that satisfaction.

"Hrm, so are you. A little plain though," he teased yet again. "Here," he tossed me the ID.

" 'Martin Freeman'? What the hell? I sound like Morgan Freeman's white twin brother!" I laughed.

"Better than mine."

"Oh?"

" 'Benedict Cumberbatch'," he made a face. I started to laugh. "It's not funny. Stop it."

"Oh no, it's very funny. I bet Irene was having a good laugh making these."

"Whatever. They'll work."

"So sure?"

"It worked with Jessica and Lauren."

"Yes but they were two hot girls, and we – we're like Bert and Ernie," I huffed.

"Only if I'm Bert," Sherlock snickered.

"Is it because of my height? Hey you know wha – Fuck you that's how they roll in Shire."

"Shire? Are you making a Lord of the Rings reference? Referring yourself to a Hobbit? Not helping your case John," he laughed.

"Oh shut up!" I groaned, gripping my cane. "And pray tell how am I to move around with this thing?"

"Don't bring it."

"I _**can't**_. Look I know you say it's gone most of the time but I don't control that," I sighed.

"You can do it."

"No I can't. Christ, I'll fall and make a scene –"

"I'll catch you," he said as if it was not a problem.

"Sherl …"

"Oh come on it won't be that bad. If anything, you can just claim you're drunk."

I sighed. "Fine. Let's go," I said, tossing my cane on the bed.

* * *

><p>It wasn't so bad. My leg was still stiff, but I was still able to walk. We got in no problem; the ID's really did the trick.<p>

"So what are we to do here," I said in a loud whisper to Sherlock, trying to be heard over the club's loud noise.

"Finding out what happened to poor Jessica."

"So ask around what happened to Juh – Monica?" I raised my eyebrows.

"No no too obvious. We need to reconstruct her night," he said. "We'll start – "

"John?"

We both turned around and I laughed. "Jamie! How you been?" I gave the kid, one of my old teammates, a low five.

"Been good bro, been good. 'Sup?" he nodded to Sherlock. Sherlock just gave an awkward smile in return and nodded back. "Whoa who's that?"

"My uh new roommate. We share a dorm together," I waved a hand.

"Oh so what? Buying him beer and all? He looks old enough," Jamie said.

"Uh." I actually didn't know how old Sherlock was. He was seventeen? Eighteen? I knew I was older than the average senior (nineteen on January 11th). "Well we – "

"John's here to make sure I don't get into trouble, my first time clubbing and all," Sherlock said.

"Oh, like a babysitter?" Jamie chuckled. "Cute, John."

"Oh bug off Jamie," I chuckled, rolling my eyes. "It's not like that."

"Yea yea, well hey, come on. The others are here too. Join us?"

"Uh sure mate," I said. "Um come Sherl."

Sherlock pursed his lips but followed. I gave an apologetic shrug and a weak smile as we reached the table that held my old teammates.

"Oi John!" they called out.

I grinned and waved. "Hey guys. Um, everyone, this is Sherlock, my friend from my old school." Sherlock gave a small twitch of a smile and waggled his fingers in a wave. "Uh Sherl, this is Macky, Larry, Russell, and Isaiah," I introduced him to the majority of my team, most who were either 18 already or just turned.

"Come on John sit, want a drink?" Larry grinned.

"Naw I'm strapped – " I started as me and Sherlock sat down.

"You're fuckin' kiddin' right?" Russell smacked my arm. "On us man. You're little date too," he laughed.

I gave them a look. "Not my date. But if you're paying, I'll have a few," I winked.

* * *

><p>Maybe it wasn't the best to join them. Sherlock was awkward, and I was getting drunk along with my mates. I was still able to hold a coherent conversation, but even I was realizing my words were getting slurred.<p>

"Hey John what's wrong with your flatmate? Barely said a word all night," Macky teased.

"Don't get him started," I warned.

"What? Come on! It's a little freaky. Plus what the hell is he wearin'? Looks like a little fairy in that shirt."

"Stop – " I tried.

"Oh? I do?" Sherlock turned his attention to Macky, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh fuck – Sherl – "

"No no," he waved me off. "Yes, I may be a freak, and dress like a fairy, but do you know what you are … Macky was it?"

"Pray tell, freak," Macky goaded.

"Mac don't –" Once again, I was ignored.

"You're a bland boy who works out far too much yet still can't fit so you pump yourself with steroids, probably why you're so testy now. You're happy John's gone because you have his spot now, quarterback, but you're pissed because unlike John you don't get – what did you call them? – 'Hot bitches'. You're failing school and you thank god that it's public so you don't get kicked out. You feel the need to remind everyone how 'manly' you are by boasting how many 'easy bitches' you get and how many fights you've been in, trying to hide the fact that you're very insecure, especially in your sexuality. Probably because you had a gay experience once, either drunk or sober, that you liked a little too much and now you're trying to make up for the fact that you may like boys. Am I rig – "

Sherlock was cut off by Macky reaching over me and punching him square in the face, sending Sherlock falling back in his chair. I was tipsy but I stood up, pushing Macky's arm out of the way.

"Macky!" I shoved his arm down.

"Tell your little faggy friend to watch his mouth," he growled.

Sherlock got up, holding his face. "Just stating the obvious. Well, obvious to me at least –"

"Sherlock shut up!" I hissed. "Look – "

"John what the fuck is wrong with you? You hanging with this? We know you were the fucking peacemaker in school but we kicked kids' like this asses! He's a smart ass, drop him," Russell shrugged.

"I'm not going to 'drop him'," I said. "He's my dorm mate."

"So?"

"So I'm not like you guys, I'm not going to just leave him," I rolled my eyes. I felt my leg start to wobble and I made a face, shifting my weight to my other leg.

"Fuck man you still on that? You weren't even shot there," Larry rolled his eyes.

I sucked in my lips and took a deep breath. "Yes. I'm still on that. Jeez you guys always like it's no big deal. Fuck Jackson's just dead and you already – Forget it. Great seeing you guys." I grabbed Sherlock. "Hope to run into you again," I said, half trying to hide the hint of sarcasm, half hoping they caught every bit of it.

"John don't be – "

"Laters," I waved them off, leaning on Sherlock as we left. I felt my leg going and I needed my cane.

"Fuck I fucking told you I needed my fucking cane," I hissed as we left the club. I was still tipsy on top of being extremely pissed.

"And I said I'd carry you, which I am," he said dryly. But I was heavier than him and I saw his face strain as he tried to keep me up.

"Hail-a … Hail a cab…" I waved my hand.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because cabs aren't good."

"Why not?"

"John! – Just shut it." He groaned as he moved his shoulders, probably because they were getting sore. "We're not that far anyway. Be better if you were completely sober."

I blew a raspberry in annoyance. "Oh please Sherl."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, making a face as shifted my weight. "Maybe you should have brought your cane."

"Told you," I muttered.

* * *

><p>We finally made it back to the dorm. Sherlock slipped me off to lay down on the sofa as he went in the kitchen to make some tea.<p>

"Sherl … Sherl! C'mere." I called.

"I'm making us tea," he huffed.

"Please?"

I heard him sigh as he clanged the kettle on the stove, walking over to the sofa. "What?"  
>he tilted his head.<p>

I reached my arms out, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down onto me. I moved around, fixing our bodies so he was on my lap, using my thighs so he could lean back on them. "Mhmm," I smiled my brain still a bit foggy.

"What?" he raised an eyebrow.

"You mad at me?"

"For?"

"Drinking. My friends," I listed off.

"Hrm, no," he shook his head. "I can't get mad at you for drinking, no matter your current state, since I've been much worse with much harder poison. And you defended with your friends, although I hardly needed it."

"Mhm good," I smiled, lifting my upper torso up, leaning on my elbows. I ran a hand down his chest, running over the buttons of his shirt. He followed my hand with his eyes.

"What are you doing, John?"

"Nothin'." I popped the bottom button open. I continued my way up, revealing the white undershirt below. Soon I finished with the button, trying to peel the shirt away. Sherlock helped, tugging on the sleeves. I smiled and reached up to kiss his stomach through the tank top. I peeled off my own shirt, a lot easier since it was just a plain t-shirt. My chest was bare, safe for the bullet scar on my shoulder, big and indented. I reached for his jeans button as did he. Then it clicked. As I was steady, even in my nearly drunk state, his hands were shaky, unsteady; very un-Sherlock like. I stopped and pushed his hand away. "No stop. Stop it." I grabbed his hands. My mine started to form better. Sherlock didn't like this stuff. I forgot this wasn't like my other relationships. I push him off me, a bit harder than I meant to. "I-I'm … Bed. I'm going to bed. See you in the ..the morning," I got up and limped into my room.

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**Wats-up-son. Feb. 7****th****, 2011**

_Glaf to see some of my old mates again. Kings. A lot seemed to have chanfed. Going to bes Laurwnd about jass._

_-J.W._


	8. Case1: A Study in Color Part 3

I woke up with a bit of a headache. I groaned, turning on my back and rubbing my temples. Then I realized I was topless, and last night slowly crept back to me.

"Shit," I groaned, stressing the vowel. I sat up in my bed, still holding my head. I reached for my crane and dragged myself up. My leg was terrible and I was barely able to walk with my crane. I made it to the living area and saw Sherlock wasn't in there yet. He was probably in his room still. I sighed and grabbed my laptop, checking the school's website. School was still canceled. I closed my laptop, not even bothering to check tumblr or Facebook or anything. Instead, I slouched in my seat and groaned.

"Morning," Sherlock walked in, wearing a blue robe over his pajamas. He went to his arm chair and sat like he usually did. There was an awkward silence as both avoided each other.

"Maybe," Sherlock started. "It's best if we end this now."

I took a sharp breath, thinking of how I may have pushed it too far. "O-oh. Alright."

Sherlock kept his look on me before dropping his head. "Alright. Good. It's nothing."

I sighed. "I'm sorry – "

"Don't be. I knew it from the beginning, so it's my own fault," he shrugged.

I furrowed my brow. "What? No it's not," I frowned.

"I knew you were uncomfortable with it, so I shouldn't of made you do this."

"I'm not uncomfortable with it," I said. "I just had a little too much to drink, I just kind of forgot."

"Forgot I was a boy …?" Sherlock asked.

"Huh? No. Forgot that all that stuff isn't for you. The non-romantic parts," I scratched my neck.

"What does that have to do with it?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

I gave him a look. "It has to do with a lot? You don't like it."

"Yeah well, I figured I could compromise – "

"Compromise your sexuality?"

"That's what you did," Sherlock said.

"No I didn't. I like you so I went with you," I pointed out. "You don't have to for me. And I promise I won't do that again. I swear it was the alcohol. Give it another shot?"

Sherlock looked at me. "Wait … You want to stay?"

"Uh, yeah."

"But you left last night, because we're both boys."

I tilted my head. "No, I left because you were uncomfortable. Your hands were shaking, and you looked kind of nervous. It took a while to click, but yeah."

Sherlock dropped his head again and chuckled. "Oh, I was hoping you didn't see that," he had a light blush.

"It's fine," I laughed. "So? We're still together?"

Sherlock nodded. "If you'd like to be."

I leaned back, groaning. "But sorry about last night. I guess it was a waste."

"Oh no. While you were catching up, I did what I needed to do."

"Oh?"

"Yes, you see," he started.

"I was trying to ignore your friends' loud, obnoxious-ness – "Sherl …" – oh fine. Anyway, I tried to think of what we could use. Then I realized that in Jessica's purse, she didn't have her phone. So I went up to the bar to talk to the bartender.

_'Excuse me? I'm looking for my cousin's phone. It's a blackberry, white.'_

_'Lemme see, I got an iPhone here, but no blackberries. Sorry mate.'_

_'Oh it's fine. She can be so ditzy sometimes. She was actually a bit worried to come back here so she sent me.'_

_'Worried?'_

_'Fake ID.'_

_'Oh! That's your cousin? Yeah, she was a bit flaky. Sweet though. Didn't order any drinks besides water, so I figured no harm done. She seemed a bit awkward, no offense.'_

_'Yeah not very social. Hey you wouldn't happen to know the number of the cab she got in? It might be in there.'_

_'Ahh no, but I saw the driver. A bit old, wore one of those newsboy hats. Maybe you'll find him out there tonight. He usually drives the kids home.'_

_'Oh thanks, I'll see if he has it.'_

_'No problem mate.'_

And then I returned to our table, and waited for you to finish up," Sherlock finished.

"So when you said cabbies were 'not good' last night?"

"I meant it. Originally I was going to wait till you were done and we'd go find him, but we had a change of plans," he teased.

I made a face at him. "Stop it. I wasn't so bad."

Sherlock chuckled. "No no, but I did fix your tumblr for you. You're welcomed."

"Fixed it?"

"Go look."

I picked up my laptop and logged into my tumblr.

_**TUMBLR****_DASHBOARD_WATS-UP-SON_MESSAGES(24)**_

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_**Wats-up-son. Feb. 7****th****, 2011 (edited)**_

_Glad to see the lot of you last night, too bad some of you changed. I hope Lauren is feeling better, remember I'm here to talk if you need me._

_-J.W._

"Oh thanks," I said. "Was it that bad?"

"There was something I didn't even know what you were saying," he laughed.

I rolled my eyes. "So are we going back? Tonight I mean. To find the cabby?"

"No no, too soon. Tomorrow's Saturday, we can go then," he chewed on his lip. "Maybe we can take Lestrade and Molly too – "

"What? Why?"

"A crowd's good. Plus, they're our …friends," he toyed with that word.

I raised my eyebrows. "Okay but what about their IDs – "

"I'll ask Irene for them. She doesn't seem to have a problem getting them."

"She does it for free?"

"Huh? Oh no. But that's alright," he waved a hand dismissingly. "I got it."

I shrugged and laid on the sofa, putting my leg up on the arm rest. "So we have another day off, what are we going to do today?"

"I have things to do, but you –"

"What do you have to do?"

Sherlock stared at me, not answering me. I groaned. "What? Come on you can tell me – No. You're not get – " "One time and that's all you think of me –" "One time I've seen you –" "I've haven't done it since!" "Well excuse me but when one does cocaine it becomes a something they're friends get concerned about," I pointed out. Sherlock sighed. "Trust me. I'm not going to get drugs. Just some things I have to take care of so that tomorrow night goes right."

I folded my arms and sighed. "Okay, can we just talk about that?"

"About what?"

"Tomorrow night. What do you expect to happen? In case you forgot, we're only high school seniors, not the world's greatest detectives."

"I'm a sophomore and so? I'm still better than the police here. Even Lestrade's father isn't all that well of a copper."

"Yea but – Wait? Sophomore? You're fourteen?"

Sherlock tightened his lips and straightened up. "I'm fifteen, and so?"

"You're fifteen?" I said, almost laughing.

"What? What's the big deal?" he sighed, folding his arms as well. "You're nineteen."

"How'd you –?"

"Tumblr requires a birth-date. When I went on last night, I saw it. Though I figured you had to be at least seventeen. Left back?"

"I uh, missed a lot of school when I got shot," I scratched the back of my head.

Sherlock nodded. "Yes well, back on the topic. You underestimate my potential, John. Yes I may be fifteen, but I swear I'll solve this before the police do."

I rolled my eyes and threw my head back, putting my hands behind my head. "Fine. Go do your thing, I'm going to bum here today."

I heard him chuckle. "Alright then John, I'll see you later then." I finally heard the door open and close.

* * *

><p>I really did just bum around all day. I finally hooked up my PlayStation and spent the better part of my day popping the heads off of zombies. I threw all my pissed off, angered feelings at it and it felt good. I probably could have spent my day being more productive, but this was easier.<p>

It was nearly midnight when Sherlock returned. I was sitting back on the sofa, reading one of my favorite books. I eyed him as he walked in.

"Oh calm down I'm clean," he said. He sat down next to me so I closed my book. I looked him up and down before deciding he was telling the truth.

"Fine. But it would help convince me if you told me where you were."

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. If you must know, I was getting information."

"From?"

"My connections. The 'Homeless Network'."

"You get your information from bums?"

"They're my eyes and ears of the city. I help them out, and they give me what they know. And then I shower for three hours," he joked.

"So what did they tell you?"

Sherlock peered at the door before turning to me, lowering his voice. "The cabbie who took Jessica home? They knew his cab number. They said that he's usually by the club by eleven. So when we go tomorrow –"

"You're not serious about this?"

"John, I've been telling you since this began – "

"Yea but I never actually think you see it all the way through."

"Yeah well," he brought his legs up, yawning. "I am."

I shook my head and sighed. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"I'll be fine," he yawned again.

I shook my head, dropping the subject. I eyed him as he gave his third yawn and tilted my head. "You tired?"

"I'm fine." He closed his eyes a bit, before blinking them opened. "Really, I've gone longer without sleep."

I turned my head to him and raised an eyebrow. "…How long?"

"Just a few days – "

"Just a few days? Sherl that's not heal – "

"I think we established I'm not all that concerned about my health," he chuckled.

"Yea well I am," I frowned. "You need to sleep."

"John you don't – Oh fine," he sighed when I wouldn't lighten my look. He slinked his body until he was laying against my side, head snuggled into the nook of my arm. I freed my arm and draped it around him, placing my hand on his side.

"Comfortable?" I chuckled.

"Very," he yawned. He hugged my arm softly, rubbing his thumb in small circles against my bicep. I smiled, running my fingers back and forth on his side. I felt his smile on my arm and a content sigh. Soon his breathing became steady and a quiet snore was escaping his lips. He was asleep.

I looked at him and was a little taken by how much of a fifteen year old he looked like right then. Curled up against me, his appearance had softened. I brushed some of his curls out of his face vey softly, careful not to wake him.

I heard my phone buzzed and looked over to the table. The text message light was blinking. I reached over slowly and carefully, grabbing it and leaning back on the couch. I unlocked it and opened the text message from the unknown number.

**So who tops you or Holmes?**

I bit my lip, trying not to get too angry. I glared at my phone but starting to type.

**You know what? Fuck you. You guys are all so interested in our lives? Fine. Yes. Me and Sherlock are dating, so what? You have a problem with it, then tell me to my face. And I swear if any of you do anything to him, A N Y T H I N G, I will personally beat the shit out each and every one of you. So fuck off and leave us alone.**

I stared at my reply before deleting it. I might have not cared, but I wasn't going to out Sherlock. I tossed my phone back on the table and yawned. I was just as tired, and although falling asleep sitting up on the couch wasn't something I enjoyed, it was quite nice with Sherlock. I put head back and stretched out my legs before drifting off to sleep.

_It starts again. We're being pushed to our knees. Oh god. My eyes are closed and I'm trying to remember all our catholic school prayers. I feel the cold barrel of a gun being pressed against the back of my head. They start to count down from three, and when they hit one –_

_Oh my god._

_I swallowed hard, pleading, begging. Please, God, let me live. It's barely louder than a whisper. They're laughing. Laughing at me, laughing at Jacks' dead body. I'm shaking and whimpering and holy fucking god. I feel the gun loosen, falling limp against my head. This was my chance. I run faster than I ever could in my life. I hear the gunshot and felt it rip through my shoulder and I spin and I fall and they're catching up and I can't get up and they here and they have the gun aimed at me at my head and they're ready to fired and –_

"John!" I'm being shaken and I can't help it, but I feel that my arms are free and I threw a punch at my attackers.

"Ugh!"

I still shaking and I have my eyes closed tight. But that noise made me open my eyes and looked.

"F-fuck I'm – " I couldn't really talk. I was still shaking and my head was still whirling. But I was able to tell that I just punched Sherlock square in the face.

"Okay, that's enough hits to the face for this week," he rubbed his nose.

"Sh-sherl – I'm sorry! – " I started, trying to help him with shaky hands.

"John, John it's fine – Are you all right?" he asked, removing his hand from his face, taking my unsteady ones.

"Yeah I – Just – It was – " I couldn't get my words out right. My legs bounced and my breathing was quick and short. Sherlock put a hand to my cheek and that's when I realized I had been crying. "I –"

"It's all right," he said, looking in my eyes.

I gave a shaky sigh and dropped my head, having his hand land in my hair. "No it's not. I-I'm sorry for waking you up – "

"Oh keep it quiet, it's fine," he said. "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head, perhaps a tab to frantic. Sherlock bit his lip and stood up, still holding my hand. "C'mon."

"Where?" I looked up at him.

"Your bed. C'mon."

"I can't get up," I whimpered. "My leg, I can't get up –"

"I got you."

I chewed on my lip and allow him to pull me up. My leg started to spazz out, wobbling so bad that Sherlock had to rush to my other side so I wouldn't fall. I tried not to lean too much on him, but every time I didn't, I nearly collapsed.

"It's all right – We're almost – there," he said, straining before we reached my room. He helped me on my bed and sat down next to me. "There, go back to sleep."

I snorted a laugh as I laid down. "I can't. I never do," I sighed.

Sherlock sighed and put a hand on my leg. "All right then." He laid down next to me, draping an arm around me. I gave a shaky sigh and groaned, my body still going into overload. He drummed my side rhythmically, almost soothing. I body gave one more unsteady shiver before I took a deep breath, calming down.

"T-thanks," I said, nodding. "Yea thanks."

Sherlock hummed. "Stop that. It's nothing."

I snorted. "Yeah well, it's something to me. Most people usually just avoid me when I get like that."

"Yeah well most people avoid me all the time, so I'd say we're even."

_**TUMBLR****_DASHBOARD_WATS-UP-SON_MESSAGES(7)**_

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_**Wats-up-son. Feb. 8****th****, 2011 **_

_I just want this to stop._

_-J.W._


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